


pretense

by Navyrants



Category: Ever After High
Genre: Gen, Rated T for language, there's just a couple of curse words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 06:09:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8316745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Navyrants/pseuds/Navyrants
Summary: “Do you resent them for it?” You don’t know what to tell her. Sometimes you’d like to. You want to be angry at them for bringing you and Cerise into this sort of life. But you can’t.





	

You pretend it doesn’t bother you. You pretend you don’t care that your family is split in half, that your baby sister avoids you in school to keep the secret, that you barely ever see your mother. You act as if not one of these things is even true. 

 And to the rest of the world, it may as well be that way. No one thinks twice about a villain’s personal life, and no one asks about your non-fairytale parent. No one can know either way, because all four of you would be banished.

 Your parents are doing their best, you know that. And Cerise has it worse, you know that too—the burden of your parents’ secret is on her; is hidden under her hood. But that doesn’t stop it hurting, doesn’t stop you missing them.

 "Do you resent them for it?“ Cerise asks you in one of those rare moments you have alone. You’re in the forest, just walking together in the middle of the night. Later, she’ll sneak back into her dorm with her cloak, and no one will even ask where you’ve been.

She’s asked this question before. You usually deflect it, or keep your silence until she changes the subject. You don’t know what to tell her. _Do_  you resent them?

Sometimes you’d like to. Sometimes you want to be angry at them for bringing you and Cerise into this sort of life. You want to be bitter and resentful.

Except the thing is that you _are_ —you are so bitter and so resentful, but those feelings are conspicuously absent when it comes to your parents.

“No,” you tell her just as she’s about to give up. She looks up at you, surprised. You stare straight ahead and watch her out of the corner of your eye. “I guess I resent the circumstances more than anything. I resent the world for making us hide.” She nods in understanding.

“Yeah,” she sighs. “Me too.”

“Also, fuck Headmaster Grimm.” That startles a laugh out of her, and you crack a smile.

"It really sucks, though,” she mumbles, shoulders drooping. You throw an arm around her and pull her into your side protectively. “I mean,” she says, clearer this time. “I mean, why is it even like this? Why does it have to be like this?” She crosses her arms tensely, shoulders drawn up near her ears. “I want to talk to you in public and sit with you at lunch and hug Dad without worrying about who sees us. I want…” she trails off with a noise of frustration, words lost to her emotions.

“You want to be a family.” She nods, blinking rapidly. You squeeze her shoulder. “I know, pup. Me too.”

You walk in silence until you draw near the border of the forest and Cerise pulls away from you, tugging her hood closer. She bids you a quiet farewell, and you make your way back to your room with a strange, empty weight in your chest.

When you open the door, Justine doesn’t ask where you’ve been. Her bed is vacant; she must be in the dance studio again even though it’s well past midnight. Staring around the dark, empty room, you think paying her a visit might not be a bad idea.

She dances beautifully. Her movements are smooth, fluid. Or maybe airy is a better word, with the way she seems to float when she leaps across the floor. Her eyes are closed, so you can’t really tell if she’s sleepwalking this time.

She twists, jumps, twirls in a move you’re sure would be infinitely more impressive if you knew a damn thing about dancing. Even so, it’s enough to draw a low, awed whistle from you. Her eyes snap open, and everything falls still around her.

Awake, then.

“How long have you been standing there?” She asks, sounding only a little embarrassed—and maybe a little pleased she’d managed to impress you.

“Not long,” you tell her, truthfully. “A few minutes.” She smiles shyly, passing a hand over her hair.

You think about telling her sometimes. She’s nice, and loyal, and your friend. She knows a thing or two about destiny-related secrets. You don’t know if she’d understand, but you think she’d try to. You think you could trust her.

But then, it’s not really your secret to tell, is it?

The two of you walk back to the room in silence, nothing like the one that always settles between you and your sister. This one is more comfortable, less pensive. She’s going to be bone-achingly tired in the morning, especially with the way she was dancing tonight, but you’re used to late nights and early mornings. It’s the only way you get to see Cerise with any regularity.

You make a mental note to bring Justine a cup of coffee when she wakes.

As you lay in bed waiting to sleep, you think about your mom. You think about the smell of cookies and tarts and cakes, fresh out of the oven. You think about the times your dad would sneak you in through the back door, hinges well-oiled and soundless. You think about playing with Cerise as a kid, running around the house shrieking with laughter until your grinning father scooped you both up under his arms and carried you, flailing, into your sister’s bedroom.

You think about Red’s kind, loving smile, tinged with sadness that she thought was hidden from you. You think about her warm hugs and her fingers tucking your hair behind your wolf ears. You think about her voice, telling you she loves you whenever she gets the chance so you won’t forget.

You pretend you don’t cry yourself to sleep.


End file.
